


It's a pleasure to meet you

by Evil_Keshi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First meetings always leave an impression, good or bad. They may be romantic, ridiculously funny or sad; sometimes, the first meeting leads to others while sometimes, the first meeting is also the last one. But at least they happen.</p><p>A collection of one shots featuring different circumstances that could lead Bucky and Steve to meet for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freeze !

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my little sister for (half-)listening to me every time I ramble on and on about Stucky.
> 
> Tags and characters might be added as I update, warnings will be added at the beginning of every chapter if needed.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://like-a-bucky.tumblr.com/) for Stucky, Marvel and Supernatural mainly, or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/evilkeshi) !
> 
> This first part includes some Clintasha ;)

  


"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck !" Bucky grumbled under his teeth as he ran down the street, bumping into bypassing people that he ended up shoving aside carelessly. "Get out of my way !"

This was totally Natasha's fault. _We can't rob the bank_ , she said, _so we're going to rob the security guards coming to refill the cash machines before they reach the bank_. Well, Nat is full of shit. He should be used to it by now, he should have refused to follow her into yet another crazy plan. But he had. Clint was supposed to watch their six from the roof of an adjacent building. Yeah, right. Which was why Bucky was running for his life, quite literally, in a street he couldn't remember ever walking in before and thus, had no idea where it would lead him to, with angry cops following him up to top it all. Thanks, Clint.

Now, if someone could explain to him why he was the one being chased, that would be great: after all, it was Nat who had taken the money, not him ! He'd just... Well, okay, okay, he had been the one with the threatening guns, fine. And also the one to knock unconscious one of the guards, alright. But why pursuing him ? They wouldn't get their money back even if they caught him !

He couldn't even use his guns right now, too many people surrounded him and he didn't want to risk shooting any of them. He might be the thief of this story, he was still a thief with moral principles and certain ethics, damn it.

His only comfort was that Nat and Clint would make it through, the two lovebirds were most likely riding Clint's bike and heading back to the base where they would share sickeningly cute kisses while waiting for him. And he would never come back, he would die alone in the arms of a mean cop with a greying hairline. What a tragedy.

"Come on !" he admonished himself, taking a sharp turn to the right and into another street. "Think, Buck !"

He could hear the cops behind him, too close for his comfort but also distinctly wheezing their way through the crowd. Okay. He could do this, he had better stamina and better dissimulation skills, he was so not going to die today. Hell no.

He ripped the band that pulled his half-long hair back in a tight ponytail and let it fall loose on his shoulders, then he got rid of his jacket - a gift from Brock, too bad. He really liked it - and tossed it haphazardly behind himself. He couldn't do anything about his pants though, so he kept going and ran even faster, snatching a red hooded sweater from the hand of an unsuspicious teenager who gasped as he passed her by like lightning. He put it on clumsily and pulled the hood over his face, slowing down a little and hunching his shoulders, changing the way he walked and moved to blend in.

He could still hear the cops coming closer though, his change of clothes wouldn't be enough to fool them if they managed to catch up. He needed a diversion or maybe something to do that wouldn't give him away at all... Come on, an idea, an idea... Right now, preferably...

Bucky quickly scanned the crowd, feeling a traitorous pain in his side as he started to run out of breath. Shit, shit, shit, not now !

He was starting to feel a little panicky when he finally saw it. His diversion - well, kind of. A tall and young blond man was standing right in the middle of the street, oblivious to the rest of the world as he looked up every few minutes or so and squinted at the shops, before giving all his attention back to the sketchbook and the pencil in his hands.

Bucky didn't think twice, he didn't allow himself to: after all, the cops were catching up quickly. He made a straight line to the artist and grabbed his wrist, ignoring his yelp of surprise as he forced him to lower his pencil.

"What the... " the young man started, beautiful blue eyes widening in question. "Who... ?"

"Hi," Bucky said with a crooked smile. "Sorry but I need your help."

"Uh... Okay ?" the other answered, confused. "But wha..."

Bucky didn't give him the time to finish his sentence: he suddenly kissed him, standing on tippy toes to wrap his arms around the boy's neck, swallowing a surprised moan as it crashed against his lips. And wow, did he taste good. Now, Bucky was no poet but these lips, he could have written poetry about them; they felt so sinful against his own mouth, so plump and soft, and they tasted faintly like chocolate and something else that had to be the man's natural scent.

And then, the young male's body seemed to relax in Bucky's arms and his mouth slowly parted open. And, well, if Bucky hesitantly darted his tongue to lick those lips and taste him deeper, that was just because he needed a good cover, alright ? Not because he was curious and enjoying that kiss more than he should have. Not at all.

Bucky never noticed the moment when the cops ran next to them and didn't even spare a glance to the kissing couple. He was a bit... busy. Busy moving his lips against the artist's, gently cradling his neck in one of his hands while the other slid down and stayed on his lower back, pressing the boy closer to him. Busy relishing the moment the blond man sucked on his tongue a little before he welcomed him in his mouth, sharing a wet and languid kiss that did funny things to Bucky's stomach.

He couldn't tell how long it lasted but damn, it was good. It would have been even better if his phone had not suddenly rung, startling them both and making them break apart. Bucky glanced at the artist and smiled when he saw his quickly reddening cheeks and his chest that rose and fell unevenly as he panted, out of breath, and he regretfully pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"What ?" he barked as soon as he answered Natasha's call.

"Where the hell are you ?" she asked, annoyed. "You were supposed to meet us at the base ten minutes ago !"

"Yeah, well, tell that to your boyfriend !" he said with a frown. "If he'd done his job right, I would have been there on time ! I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking."

"I knew you would be. So, when are you coming back ?"

For an unknown reason, Bucky hesitated and glanced at the blond boy in front of him, taking a closer look at him and really seeing him for the first time. Sun-kissed hair and clear blue eyes stared right back at him, adorably confused and shining a bit too much, and red swollen lips spread onto a tentative smile that sent waves of warmth into Bucky's stomach.

Oh.

"Nat ?" he whispered quietly. "I'll be in touch. I have... unfinished business here."

"What do you mean, unfinished business ? Buck ? Hey !"

Bucky didn't even feel guilty as he ignored Natasha's questions and hung up on her, which he would probably regret later, and turned to the artist.

"Unfinished business ?" the latter repeated with a bashful and innocent smile.

"Yes, I think so," he replied, smiling back. "Depends on whether or not you want to get a coffee with me."

"Not the type to do things in order, right ?" the blond man asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Right," Bucky muttered, remembering his manners as he reached out his right hand, smiling apologetically and a bit self-consciously as he looked down at his fingers - was it normal to shake hands after kissing the way they did ? Probably not. Smooth. "James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky."

He felt himself relax when the artist shook his hand anyway and grinned, dazzling smile piercing Bucky's heart like a bullet.

"Steve Rogers."

  



	2. Hi there sexy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, comments and subscriptions, I'm glad you enjoyed the first part !
> 
> This one shot includes College!AU elements, skinny!Steve, some dirty talk and implied sex ;)

  


Steve tries to keep his eyes open and to focus on the string of words his teacher blurts out, so quickly that he barely has the time to hear them, let alone write them down to take proper notes.

He doesn't feel good. Rather dizzy, and then there's this painful pounding of hammers against his skull and he can't really breathe in this classroom, too many students taking too much oxygen away from him and his tight lungs, he can feel his cheeks burn and...

"Hey, Steve, you okay there buddy ?"

Steve exhales shakily as he turns his head to Sam, who's staring at him in worry. There's no need to lie with him, Sam has always been able to see right through him anyway, so he says weakly:

"I don't feel too well."

"We can get out of here if you want. You need to get some fresh air or... ?"

Steve quickly shakes his head, immediately regretting it as the pain increases sharply, and he answers feebly:

"No, no... You stay here and listen to the lecture, I'll... I'll go to the restroom, I'll be back soon. Thanks, Sam."

"Okay... Call me if you have any problem, alright ?" he replies in a soft whisper not to be heard by the teacher, and he places his cell phone on the table, next to his hand. "I'll be there in an instant."

Steve smiles, grateful, then drops his pen that he wasn't using anyway and he discreetly stands up to tiptoe to the backdoor of the auditorium. Fortunately, his small - tiny, really - form doesn't catch the eye much and he manages to get out in no time. The hallway is empty at this hour of the day, the students are either in class or at the library, sweating over shortly due papers and upcoming finals, so Steve doesn't run into anyone as he makes his way to the closest restroom. Sam doesn't need to worry, Steve's just going to splash some water on his face and take deep gulps of air, then he will go back to class and he'll be fine, really.

The restroom is empty when Steve enters it and he closes the door as softly as possible - it's freaking heavy and sometimes it slams shut so hard that the noise resounds all around the hallway and is audible even from inside the auditorium, which is so annoying it makes him cringe every time.

Steve approaches one of the sinks and lets the water run, cupping his pale hands to gather it and splash his red cheeks gently, careful not to soak the collar of his shirt. It's fresh, not too cold but enough to make a little shiver run down his spine, and he takes extra care not to let the droplets fall down his neck and slip inside his shirt. He can't afford to catch a cold now, not when he's getting so close to the finals that he needs to work his ass off to pass. He's missed class enough already because of his health issues, he can't get sick anymore.

Feeling a bit better already, he turns off the tap and he fumbles around for the paper towels when he hears it. A voice, coming from the only closed stall, which he hadn't noticed when he came in. It's a masculine voice, apparently speaking on the phone since it's the only one Steve can hear, all in low tones and heavy breaths... And Steve freezes when he unwillingly overhears the conversation.

"Ah, yes, yes..." the boy moans softly, unaware of Steve's presence on the other side of the door. "That's it, deeper, please fuck me harder, please, plea... Ah !"

Steve's eyes widen so much he wouldn't be surprised if they popped out of their sockets, and he listens, dumbfounded and unable to move, as the man keeps moaning in inappropriate ways.

"Yeah... Oh, fuck, f... You're gonna come, baby ? Gonna come inside me and paint my tight little ass ? Ah, mmh..."

Oh dear lord. Steve should leave, he really shouldn't stay there listening to a dude jerking off on the phone with his boyfriend, but he can't even get his feet to move so he stands there awkwardly and honestly, a bit turned on because the guy has a beautiful voice spilling out dirty, oh so dirty words.

"Yes, yes, fuck ! Touch me, touch me, please !" the boy begs shamelessly, and Steve definitely does _not_ imagine a tall and gorgeous male writhing on the tangled sheets of his bed. "I'm... I'm going to... Oh, fuck, yes, yes ! A... Aaaaaaah..."

Red as a tomato, Steve listens as the boy comes apart only a few feet away from him, his beautiful voice breaking on a loud moan as his orgasm hits him, and his cheeks are burning hot with both desire and shame to have listened to this.

And of course, that's when the stall opens and Steve wants to die because there's no way the boy won't see him, standing in the middle of the bathroom with his face a deep red and every nerve of his body ablaze.

To make it even better - or worse, depending on how you look at it - the boy who walks into the room _is_ gorgeous, tall brunet with gentle eyes and full lips, a slim waist and extremely nice thighs that Steve would love to have locked on both sides of his head. Just like he would love to drop on his knees right now.

But the boy stops abruptly when he sees him, his face suddenly flushing red, and he splutters:

"Oh fuck. Shit, I mean... Oh God. I'm so sorry, I..."

He seems so embarrassed that Steve quickly says:

"No, no, don't ! I... I'm _so_ sorry, I shouldn't... I didn't mean to..."

"I swear I'm not a pervert getting off in the restroom, I swear !" the young man interrupts him quickly, gesturing frantically with his hands as though it would coax Steve into believing him (it doesn't.)

But then, Steve notices that there isn't any suspicious stain nor darker spot on the boy's crotch - no, he wasn't purposefully looking down ! - his hair isn't even slightly mussed and he doesn't have that dreamy look on his face that usually follows a nice orgasm. He doesn't have the time to wonder any longer about this mystery though, because gorgeous-boy blurts out:

"I work as a phone sex operator, okay ? I need the money to pay for my tuition and usually it's fine you know, but then there's this guy who keeps calling during class hours and I just... I have to take the call though so yeah, I come here and I get him off but I'm just doing my job, I swear I'm not a perv, no, I'm really not !"

"Okay ?" Steve tries hesitantly.

"Okay ?" the boy repeats in disbelief, apparently not expecting Steve to believe him so quickly.

"Okay," he says more firmly, the hint of a smile starting to tug at his lips. "So, Mr. I'm-no-perv, do you have an actual name ? I'm Steve."

The boy remains silent for a few seconds, staring at him as if he was insane.

"Bucky," he eventually whispers, a delicate shade of pink colouring his cheeks.

And then, Bucky literally runs away, closing the door behind him with a loud bang that echoes painfully into Steve's ears.

He can't help but chuckle as he leaves the restroom as well, smiling as he remembers Bucky's awkward explanations... Only to choke on his own spit when he's reminded of less innocent words told by the same pair of kissable lips. Shit.

  


"Hey, you're sure you don't want to go home ?" Sam asks in worry when Steve sits back next to him. "You look ever redder than before."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention it earlier but English isn't my first language so if you notice any spelling/grammar mistake, please do educate me.
> 
> Thank you for reading, feel free to leave some feedback or to join me on [Tumblr](http://like-a-bucky.tumblr.com/)!


	3. The check, please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for the kudos and subscriptions, I really appreaciate it ! Skinny!Steve comes back in this part, I hope you'll like it. If you have any request for this collection, feel free to say so in the comments and I will try my best to satisfy you ;)

If someone had told Bucky that rude customers were a common nuisance you had to deal with once you started working in a restaurant or a coffee shop as a waiter, maybe he would have reconsidered his decision to apply for the job at _The Howling Commandos_. Well, honestly, the job itself was great: Bucky got along just fine with his co-workers and it paid the bills, which had not always been the case with other jobs he'd had in the past.

Rude patrons though... Ugh. He hated it when people were having a bad day and took it out on him; he wasn't responsible for their car crash, nasty breakup, bad mood or dead phone, for fuck's sake ! The worst was... You couldn't really react. Just quietly apologise or simply ignore the way the customer snapped at you, even though you didn't do anything wrong.

Most of the time, Bucky didn't take it personally even though he had a hard time refraining from yelling at some of them to _show some respect before I poison your fucking espresso_ but there were times when it got to him and made him feel down, as if he couldn't even do his job right and make people smile.

And today, when a grumpy guy came in for lunch without replying to his cheerful _hello_ but ordered a beer and a plate of spaghetti and meatballs with a bark, Bucky knew that today would be one of those bad days. The mere thought was tiring already.

The little bells nearby the front door suddenly jingled, announcing a new customer, and Bucky immediately forgot all about the irritable man when he saw the newcomer, a miracle on legs entering Bucky's life like a ray of sunshine through the window. Blond hair, blue eyes that had probably broken too many hearts to count... A perfect smile flashed his way, full lips moving around a gentle _hello_ that Bucky returned with red cheeks, unable to advert his eyes from the young man who had just walked in. He was way shorter than Bucky and probably too skinny for it to be totally healthy but damn, he was gorgeous just like this. And cute.

Not the let-me-pinch-your-cheeks kind of cute, no, more like the I-wanna-taste-your-moans-on-my-tongue kind.

Bucky managed to snap out of his little fantasy quickly enough so that he didn't freak out the young man with his unwavering and a little enamoured stare, then he motioned him to a free table and handed him the menu.

"Here you go," he said, grinning like a fool.

"Thank you," the other answered and oh boy, he _was_ a miracle. Polite, apparently in a good mood and hopefully willing to give his phone number to Bucky.

If only all the patrons could behave like that ! It would make his job much easier and stress free. Speaking of which, Bucky made his way to the bar where Falsworth had just finished serving the beer the grumpy man had asked for, and the young waiter put on his best smile to deliver it to his customer.

But of course, it didn't quite go as planned.

"A beer ?" the man quipped, raising a brow. "I asked for a glass of red wine, young man."

 _No you didn't, asshole_ , Bucky wanted to scream. Instead, the only words that crossed his pursed lips were:

"Oh, my mistake. I'll be right back."

Trying his best not to mumble profanities and curses under his breath, Bucky turned around and he suddenly locked eyes with the skinny blond, who was looking at him with his head slightly tilted to the side as if to ask if he was okay. Or maybe he was imagining that, who knew ? Well concern or not, he was staring, so Bucky smiled a little and fuck, the guy blushed. He was soooo getting that number.

Bucky changed the beer for a glass of wine just like his customer wanted it and he apologised once more when he gave the drink to the man, who waved his hand dismissively without even glancing his way or thanking him.

Bucky didn't allow himself to think too much about it though, unfortunately used to this kind of attitude, and he smiled to the blonde when he ordered a lemonade and a salad. A _salad_. No wonder he was so skinny.

He was almost back to his initial good mood by now, glancing from time to time to the gorgeous boy sipping on his drink just because he was a sight for sore eyes, one that would get him through his shift without killing anyone, when _of course_ the rude man from earlier spoke up again.

"Could you hurry with those damn spaghetti ?" he barked. "I don't have all day !"

"Coming right up !" Bucky immediately said, taking a deep breath that he released slowly to calm down and fight the urge to punch the guy. Calm, Bucky. Keep it cool. Be the better man. Easy.

He stormed inside the kitchen, startling Dum Dum in the process, and he exclaimed:

"Someone tell me those fucking spaghetti are done, the sooner he leaves the better !"

"That bad, uh ?" Dum Dum asked, voice filled with sympathy as well as that _better you than me_ vibe, while handing him a plate of pastas covered in sauce, the fragrance of fresh tomatoes exploding in sweet whiffs under his nose. Great, now he was hungry.

"Yeah, that bad," Bucky answered in defeat, his shoulders suddenly sagging as he looked down at the plate in his hands. "I hate customers like those."

"Cheer up, James. He'll be gone soon."

"Don't call me James !" Bucky exclaimed while leaving the kitchen to serve the spawn of Satan his damned spaghetti.

Either he had a shitty karma or really bad luck or perhaps the world simply hated him, because of course the moment he came by the table to set down the plate was also the moment the guy chose to stand up and abruptly turn around, colliding with him and...

And Bucky watched, helpless, as the plate flew in the air almost in slow motion, only to land on the cute boy with his blue eyes. Who wore a white shirt. Now soiled with deep red tomato sauce. Fuck.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry !" he exclaimed, taking a step forward and just about to grab an unreasonable number of napkins to pat his shirt, not knowing what to do with himself anymore, when a voice he'd come to hate in the short thirty minutes the guy had been there reached his ears.

"Look what you've done !"

And that was too much.

"What _I_ have done ?!" Bucky yelled back, unable to stop himself and oblivious to the others patrons who'd stopped eating to watch. "Are you fucking kidd..."

"You asshole !" a third voice cut in, and Bucky flinched when he realised that it belonged to the charmingly cute and previously polite boy he'd wished he could get the phone number of. Well, he should probably forget about it, now. Apparently, he hadn't taken too kindly to be covered in sauce, which Bucky could totally understand, and now he was mad at him too. Great.

"I'm sorry..." he started with a contrite and sad smile, only to be interrupted again.

"Not you ! Him !" the blond boy said, pointing his finger to the rude man. "Who the fuck do you think you are ? Treating him like that, you... you... You arrogant prick !"

"What did you just say ?!"

Oh God. That skinny boy with his bony arms and his startlingly blue eyes was defending him, not caring that the other man was so much taller than he was and about to punch him in the face. (Bucky fell a little bit in love at that, but hush.) Perhaps his combativeness would have helped him to win the fight but Bucky wasn't too eager to find out and Dum Dum would definitely kill him if broken chairs, tables or cutlery happened, so he launched himself at the guy and dragged him outside with Falsworth's assistance, all the while doing their best to ignore the string of profanities he threw to the blond.

When Bucky came back inside, his shirt crumpled and his left cheek stinging due to a badly aimed fist, said blond was staring in disbelief at his previously white shirt and let out a deep sigh that prompted Bucky to apologise again.

"I'm so sorry, uh... Sir ?"

"Steve," the blond said with a tiny smile, and in any other circumstances, Bucky would have danced in victory. "It wasn't your fault, it's alright. It's just, I have to go back to work soon and now I need to change, I can't stay... Can I have the check, please ?"

Bucky would have cried if he hadn't believed that it made him look highly unattractive, what with his red eyes and trembling lips, but this guy was so nice and not even mad despite his ruined shirt and cancelled meal, and he was still willing to pay without making a fuss and... God, Bucky really did have a bad karma.

Steve paid and walked out of the restaurant - and out of Bucky's life, cue to tears and sighs of despair - leaving behind him a weary waiter looking like a kicked puppy.

After that, his day was kind of boring and gloomy, and he went back home after his shift blaming himself for the probable loss of one nice customer - because no way this cute boy would come back, right ?

Which was why Bucky was so surprised when the next day, a blond and skinny male came in the restaurant with a sunny smile and eyes like the sky, laughing softly at his bemused expression.

"You're back," he blurted out, disbelief audible in his voice.

"I am," Steve nodded, still smiling.

Bucky didn't answer anything to that, too caught up in staring at those cheekbones and those lips, the silky hair he wanted to run his hand through and damn, those blue eyes were too much. It was probably starting to get awkward, because the blond boy cleared his throat and said hesitantly:

"Uh, may I have a coffee ?"

"Sure," Bucky replied, straightening up and getting back in business mode. "Anything else I can get you ?"

"Now that you mention it... You have a phone number, right ?"

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! Remember that you can find me on [Tumblr](http://like-a-bucky.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/evilkeshi) if you want to.


	4. Call me maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! I apologise for the delay, university is making me crazy and I don't have much time to write... This chapter is a bit different from the others as Steve and Bucky don't exactly meet at first. I hope you will like it !

"No, no, no, no... Oh, fuck !" Bucky swore as he saw the doors of the last bus home close right under his nose and he suddenly came to a stop, wheezing after the short but intense sprint he'd broken into in hopes to catch his bus.

Ah, no such luck. Well, as usual, one could say: Bucky didn't exactly have much luck in his life, neither professional nor personal, and tonight simply added one more failure to his already impressive list. Great. Plus, he felt a little bit ashamed to admit that it was not the first time he missed the bus under these exact same circumstances: he had known for _years_ that he should leave the bar earlier than he usually did on his nights out with Clint and Natasha.

Which they made hard by the way, always trying to keep him with them as long as they could: the three of them didn't get the chance to meet up as often as they did when they were all teenagers going to the same school, since Clint and Nat travelled a lot for their work while Bucky remained in Brooklyn.

Mentally waving a sad goodbye to his bus, Bucky plopped down onto the sidewalk and immediately regretted it when his ass connected rather harshly with the hard and cold ground, and a grunt crossed his pouty lips.

That was just great: he didn't know the exact schedule but he knew from previous experience that the next bus would not arrive before at least one hour and half, if he was lucky (ahem.) He thus had several choices... Wait for it, walk all the way back home or try to hail a cab.

 _Of course_ , he realised as his hands searched in the pockets of his jeans, he didn't have any money left, having been gracious enough to pay the last round at the bar, so he guessed the cab option wasn't up anymore. He didn't feel like walking either, to be honest, so... He would wait. Yay.

Bucky settled down a bit more comfortably on the sidewalk, as much as possible anyway, and braced himself for what he knew would be a long and boring hour. Never again, he bitterly thought (but not for the first time) as he looked up and watched a few clouds pass above his head.

He stayed still for a little while, then unconsciously began tapping his feet to the rhythm of a song he'd heard into the bar, humming the lyrics under his breath. He flinched when a car drove down the street and honked as it came near him, and Bucky rolled his eyes when he heard laughter erupting from the open windows.

"Asshole !" he screamed, flipping the bird to the driver - which was probably not a wise move but hey, at least he wasn't bored anymore. He stood up, shuffling his feet a little, and crossed the street in a few strides, heading for a dumpster that the car lights had hit while bypassing it. Bucky had seen something gleam underneath and he foolishly thought for a second that maybe it was his lucky day, after all: who knew, perhaps he would find some money that would enable him to pay for a cab ? Well, money or not, his interest was sparked, so he crouched down and hesitantly stretched his arm to fumble about - praying not to get bitten by a rat or something - and his fingertips suddenly reached...

A phone.

Not even a broken one, but a black and apparently quite new Smartphone that had not been deigned worthy enough to be kept and had been lamely abandoned under a dumpster. Poor thing. Or maybe someone had lost it ?

Bucky stared at the device in his hand and debated with himself whether or not he should try to unlock it and maybe get some clues about its owner... Maybe he could bring the phone back to a friend of theirs ? Shrugging, the young man eventually pushed his finger on the power button and the phone suddenly came to life, the screen lighting up and displaying the picture of a young man kneeling beside a golden Labrador.

Aaaaw, Bucky chuckled to himself. How cute... The dog, not the boy. Although... Okay, he decided as he squinted a little and brought the phone closer to his face: the guy was not bad either, not to downright say that he was gorgeous, what with his blond hair and blue eyes that the picture probably didn't do any justice to, even though he was so skinny that the dog almost looked like a bear next to him.

Bucky soon realised that there wasn't any password necessary to access the phone's information and he tuned down the small voice telling him to respect people's privacy. How was he supposed to know where to go from there if he didn't find anything about the person it belonged to ?

The young man swiped his thumb across the screen and accessed the desktop background, a picture of the same boy with golden hair now surrounded by a woman in a red dress and a dark-skinned man with a bright smile. Bucky allowed himself to appreciate the blond boy's smile a little bit longer then he shook his head and focused on his mission: gathering intel on the owner of this phone.

It didn't take him long: applications such as Facebook and Instagram gave him a name to match to the blond man on the pictures, Steve Rogers, and a quick investigation revealed that the two people next to him were Peggy Carter and Sam Wilson, his best friends, judging by the amount of conversations those three had going on - not that he'd wanted to pry of course, he was doing this out of kindness. Not because he was a creepy stalker-slash-pervert... Well, he might or might not have stared at the Instagram pictures of Steve in swimming trucks on the beach longer than strictly necessary, but hush.

He looked through the contacts in the phone and tried not to laugh at some of the nicknames he found there, such as _Asshole millionaire_ and _Thor_ (wait, that was a nickname, right ?), and he finally found Sam, that he called immediately.

It rang twice, and then, because Bucky was always so lucky in life, a voice assaulted his eardrums:

"Listen you son of a bitch, I don't know who you are but if you think that you can steal Steve's phone and beat him up like that, you got another thing coming, you..."

Bucky gaped, dumbfounded, as a string of colourful words was delivered to him, until the guy he guessed was Sam calmed down, took a deep breath and asked:

"Still there, asshole ?"

"Um," Bucky said eloquently, absently tugging at his hair and scratching his neck. "Yeah. But uh, I'm not... I found this phone under a dumpster, thought I'd give a call to give it back to someone."

"Oh. Really ?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, really."

"Whoa. Steve's never so lucky, usually." ( _Ah_ , Bucky thought, _sweet irony_.) "He got beat up in the street tonight, thought these guys had taken his phone... Wouldn't have been the first time."

Bucky distractedly listened as Sam told him to hang on there, that he would get Steve to come on the phone if he felt good enough to let go for a few minutes of the frozen peas bag he'd pressed to the bruises on his face.

"Hello ?" someone suddenly asked, and Bucky caught himself grinning like an idiot upon hearing that voice, lower and huskier than he'd imagined it seeing Steve's small frame on the pictures.

"Hey," Bucky remembered to say just in time, before his silence had the chance to seem weird. "So, I take it you're Steve ?"

"Yes. And you are ? I'm sorry, Sam didn't tell me your name."

"Oh, uh, I didn't give him, but I'm Bucky."

An awkward silence settled once they were done with introducing each other, until Steve spoke again.

"So..."

"So ? Ah, right !" Bucky said, mentally facepalming. "So, I have your phone..."

"Yeah, I figured," Steve replied, laughing softly in obvious amusement, much to Bucky's relief. It was way too rare that he didn't make a fool of himself whenever he opened his mouth so he was glad that the blond boy didn't call him out on the clumsiness of his attempt at holding a decent conversation. He wasn't doing good, was he ?

Bucky cleared his throat and tried to gather his thoughts as he said:

"So, maybe you could give me an address so I can give you your phone back ? Or you can come take it if you'd rather not tell me your address, it's okay, I understand," he hurriedly added, not eager to sound like a stalker - he'd already stared too long at the pictures, he should get a grip on himself before it was too late.

"I'll come by," Steve said, although he didn't seem to be trying to keep Bucky away from him at all costs (maybe Bucky was too hard on himself and could still pass as a pretty nice guy ? He'd have to study the question more thoroughly). "I should get going anyway, not keep Sam up any longer... He was kind enough to patch me up after tonight."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'm close to The Old Oak, you know, the Irish pub in Brooklyn ? I'm waiting in the street next to it."

"Yeah, I know it," Steve said, only with a tired laugh. "That's where I got beaten up."

Oh. This time, Bucky did actually facepalm. Of course Steve knew it, he'd obviously been there when some assholes grabbed him and roughed him up.

"Okay," he said awkwardly. "Well, I'll wait right here then."

"Alright. See you in a few, Bucky !"

And then he hung up, which made Bucky sigh as he realised that he was back to waiting. Only this time, he had something to look forward to, much more interesting than a freaking bus.

  


  


Meeting Steve was... probably not awkward as it could have been, knowing Bucky. Steve, even though his left eye was swollen and half-close due to the shiner blooming on his face, smiled at him as if he'd known him forever, leisurely making his way toward him. Bucky might have started to get cold from all his waiting but sure enough, he felt much warmer once he caught a glimpse of Steve's sunny smile in the middle of the night.

"Hi," Steve greeted him, lifting his chin so that he could meet Bucky's eyes more easily.

The way he looked up at him, all smiles and big blue eyes, was so adorable that the other male had a hard time refraining from swooning right there, and he managed to flash him a shaky grin as he greeted Steve back.

"So, here. Your phone," he said sheepishly, feeling like an idiot already for what was about to come out of his mouth. "I... I took the liberty of adding my number to your contact list so... If you ever, you know, wanna hang out... Go for a coffee or something... Call me ?"

Bucky could swear that Steve's smile, in this instant, was blinding, and for once in his life the young man actually felt like the luckiest man of the universe, until a bus came down the street, illuminating them with its lights, and Steve sounded regretful when he said:

"Oh, that's actually the bus I ride back home, so, I have to go. But I'll guess I'll see you around, right ?"

"Right !" Bucky cheerfully replied, butterflies doing summersaults in his stomach as he waved goodbye to the blond boy.

Only once the bus drove off, taking away Bucky's new wet dream, did he realise _which_ bus exactly Steve was riding right now.

"Fuck !"

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there are Irish pubs in Brooklyn but apparently "The Old Oak" doesn't exist there, although it does here in Brussels ;)


	5. Send me an angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! I'm back with a new short story, not a happy one this time... I wouldn't want to spoil anything so warnings are in the end notes, read them if particular things might be triggering for you. So, here comes paramedic!Steve for you, I hope you'll enjoy it ! Don't forget to drop a comment, that would mean the world to me ;)
> 
> Title from the eponymous song by Scorpions. Also, special thanks to my friend Rayane for his explanations regarding paramedics work and first aid.

  


Steve doesn't even bat an eye as the ambulance takes a sharp turn and passes three cars in a row, the sirens blaring. He watches in amusement as Clint, in the seat next to his, literally whines and keeps his eyelids shut while he attempts to breathe in slowly, until he finds the strength in himself to open his eyes again and yell:

"Sam ! We'll be of no use if we arrive dead, can't you at least be a little careful ?"

Behind the wheel, Sam only shrugs and winks at his colleagues through the rear mirror, before he pointedly presses his foot down on the accelerator. Clint's desperate groan is drowned under Sam's louder voice quipping to the other man, although not unkindly:

"We're on a crash involving a motorbike and a truck, man. Not so sure they want us to take our time."

"I didn't tell you to fucking slow down !" Clint retorts, grabbing the handle of the door with white knuckles. "Just to be careful !"

Steve smiles gently as they keep bickering between them, wondering impishly whether or not now would be a good time to remind Sam of the car crash he nearly caused a few months ago on the highway; he chokes back on a laugh and runs a hand through blond strands of hair as he eventually decides to take pity on poor Clint: it is, after all, the first time he rides with an EMT team, having only recently volunteered to replace the Dr. Foster now that her pregnancy is too far advanced to allow such travels.

"Almost there, boys," he warns them as they approach the address they were given when they were called.

It happens to be a crossroad, engorged with stilled traffic, but the car drivers thankfully move as much as they possibly can to make way for the ambulance, whose sirens die slowly as Sam pulls up.

Steve is the first one to get out, opening the backdoors of the ambulance so that they can easily have access to the stretcher, and Clint and Sam both follow closely behind. Steve's pace doesn't falter even as he takes in the wreck in front of them - he is used to it, although it doesn't necessarily makes it any more bearable. He first sees the bike, or rather what's left of it, torn metal and shattered glass in front of a red truck that doesn't appear to have encountered much damage, except at the front where it has taken a weird shape. A shape that mostly looks like the one of a bike, Steve realises with horror. Frontal collisions never mean anything good.

The police is already on the scene, the team divided into two small groups, one talking to the eye witnesses to figure out what happened exactly, the other gathered around someone laid down on the concrete and that Steve can only see the feet of, in biking boots; he doesn't need a double take to understand that this is the victim.

"Please, move," he tells the agents hurriedly, almost pushing them aside: he knows from experience that motorbike crashes often cause severe damage, even more so when the other vehicle is a truck like this one, and he doesn't want to waste any time.

The sight he's met with once the officers move and reveal a man is... not pretty. He quickly crouches behind the victim's head, before calling him insistently but the man doesn't react at all. Steve sweeps his body with piercing eyes and checks for injuries: besides his nearly unconscious state and his obvious battle with himself to keep his eyes open, his left arm is bent at an odd angle, blood seeping out alarmingly fast from a wound that Steve cannot quite distinguish because of his (torn) leather clothes. The blond suddenly feels his stomach twist as he notices that half of the man's face is covered in red, long dark hair tangled and coated with blood, and as Clint kneels next to him to assess the damage, Steve asks the police officers dryly:

"Do you know if he was wearing any helmet ?"

"According to them, he was," one of them replies with a wave at a couple standing on the sidewalk a few feet away from them. "Apparently, it broke with the impact."

"Fuck," Steve mutters as he thinks _spinal injury_ and _frontal lobe damage_.

"We need to stabilise him before we move him," Clint says, focused, at the same time as Sam arrives with the stretcher and the bags containing all their material resting on it.

Inflatable splints are probably in order, seeing that the man's arm is most likely broken, and the spinal collar proves necessary - mandatory, even. As Clint explore the back of the man's head with deft and expert fingers, Steve takes on making sure the poor guy can breathe, half-ready to grab a tracheal tube already, and he pretends not to notice the shadow that falls on Barton's face when his hand comes back red.

The victim is breathing, Steve realises in relief when he feels a soft, barely there breeze against his palm as he brings his hand close to the man's mouth, and that has to mean something, he has to hang on until they make it to the hospital and save him.

But his face is so pale and the blood such a deep red, on his face and on Steve's and Clint's hands, and they can't control the bleeding and fuck, fuck, they're losing him, no, it can't be happening ! He looks so young under the red, he can't give up; they'll get him to the hospital and everything will be okay.

Soon, the spinal collar is in place and Sam is on the phone with the hospital, asking for the preparation of the ER and an emergency CT scan, while Steve immobilises the broken arm with a splint and Clint gently but quickly sets up a thick bandage around the young man's skull.

"Sam, stretcher," he enjoins calmly, although the tension and the urgency in his voice are unmistakable.

They move him as quickly and comfortably as they can, careful to keep his limbs in the right alignment not to cause any more damage - irreversible, like paralysis or severe brain trauma - and they eventually get to haul him into the ambulance. Sam takes back his spot behind the wheel while Clint and Steve climb up behind and stay next to the young man; it says much about the situation when Clint doesn't make any comment on Sam's driving skills, and Steve swallows thickly as his eyes settle on the still form while he monitors his heartbeat and breathing, too shallow to put him at ease.

Steve's mom used to be a nurse. Sometimes, she would come back home with hollow and tired eyes; when her son was young still, she would say that she'd had a rough shift but she would never explain in details. Only when Steve grew up did he understand that his mother sometimes had to live through the loss of a patient and the guilt that came with it. The guilt and the anger at being weak, powerless, when Death came to claim her preys. And Steve... Steve has never gone through this yet but somehow, he reads the signs, right now, in this ambulance, and he knows that the young man in front of him won't make it.

Steve starts when a hand feebly holds onto his biceps and his eyes widen in surprised awe as he looks up and catches sight of blue orbs that are like deep oceans veiled by grey clouds. Eyes suddenly wide open, the young man stares at Steve for what seems to be hours, even though only seconds pass, and he coughs up blood when he tries to speak.

"Hey, hey, don't," Steve hurriedly commands. "Please, don't talk. You were involved in an accident, we're on our way to the hospital."

He wants to say so much more, tell him that he will be okay, that he shouldn't worry... But he knows that it would be a lie.

"B... Bucky," the man croaks bravely, voice rough and gurgling with blood, and Steve wonders for a second if the boy is delirious, but he repeats, "Bu... cky. You ?"

"Oh," the blond says stupidly when he understands that he was just given the boy's name. "I'm Steve."

"Steve..." he repeats slowly, almost drowsily, as if he wasn't quite awake anymore.

Which is a terrifying thought and Steve doesn't want to consider the possibility that... that Bucky might never walk out of this ambulance. It might be dumb as he doesn't know that man at all, but Steve doesn't want to lose him, _refuses_ to. He's terrified at the mere prospect of failing a patient and going back home with unshed tears in his eyes and a weary heart, blaming himself.

"Steve..." the man whispers again, clenching on the paramedic's arm. "You're... you're an angel ?"

"I... What ?" the blond asks, slightly taken aback and momentarily forgetting to worry before it hits him with full force. Maybe the man _is_ delirious, after all.

"My mom..." Bucky murmurs, blue eyes smiling as he speaks more clearly in that strong yet slow way dying people talk before they _go_. "She used to say... that angels watched over me. You're one of them, S... Steve ?"

 _No_ , he wants to say. _I'm no angel, just a man who can't save you_. It would be the truth, the words Steve should say, but Bucky is staring at him with a glimmer of adoration in his blue eyes that has Steve's throat tighten and constrict, keeping the words in. A shaky hand reaches out to gently caress Bucky's hair and the blond smiles softly, as reassuringly as he can while comforting the boy with a low voice:

"I am, Bucky. I'll take care of you, don't worry. You are going to be okay, you won't hurt anymore."

The smile Bucky flashes him turns Steve's insides to ice: there is so much trust in that earnest expression and those calm eyes that his heart breaks inside his chest and when Bucky weakly raises his hand to brush his fingertips against Steve's cheeks, the young paramedic can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't (can't) hear the heart monitor going crazy as Bucky gathers his remaining strength to say softly:

"I'm glad... that you were the one to come f... for me. Thank you."

His smile widens only the slightest bit before his eyes, still staring at Steve like he hung the moon, grow distant and hazy, until his eyelids flutter close and long lashes graze his pale but bloodied face.

Steve flinches when Clint gently touches his shoulder; it should be helping, grounding, yet he can't bring himself to advert his eyes from Bucky's unmoving form, not unlike he was simply sleeping, but...

"Will you be alright ?" the other man asks carefully.

Steve doesn't answer but two tears finally roll down his cheeks, drowning the blue of his eyes in a sea of hurt and guilt, falling in two small wet spots on Bucky's hand.

He doesn't know.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: description of injuries and major character death. Speaking of which, I'm sorry about this. I promise the next one will be fun and happy ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading !


	6. Drink me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another one-shot and don't worry, this time nothing bad happens (quite the opposite, actually...)
> 
> Warnings: Bucky has a dirty mind + mention of sex under the influence.

  


Bucky groaned when something warm and a little too bright to his liking decided to mess with him by burning through his closed eyelids. Unf. _Sun_ , his sleepy but still sharp brain helpfully supplied. Thank you, brain. So... Sun, alright. How was that possible ? Bucky's bedroom didn't have any window facing the East, no chance for the sun to wake him up at ungodly hours... Meaning, before at least ten in the morning. So, why those freaking sunrays in the face ?

 _You're not home_. Definitely an amazing brain. What was far less amazing was the bright light that blinded Bucky when he tried to open his eyes, and he hissed in pain as he rolled on the bed, only to collide with another body.

Oh. Well, that explained why Bucky wasn't in his apartment, he thought as he eyed the - naked - blond man still asleep next to him and snoring softly. Fuck, he didn't remember coming home with anyone. Only the party at Clint's place and the booze, the music and... The booze. He'd probably had too much, if the light headache he was starting to notice was anything to go by (not to mention the dull ache coming from his lower back). Well, he'd had worse but it was the first time he was waking up next to someone he couldn't remember having hooked up with.

His stomach suddenly twisted in worry that had Bucky sit up to frantically sweep the room until his eyes settled on used condoms, carelessly laid on the floor next to the bed. He collapsed back on the mattress and breathed out his relief, glad to know he had not been drunk to the point of neglecting his and his partner's safety - or maybe said mysterious-blond-partner had been the one sober enough to remember the condoms.

Speaking of which, it was a shame Bucky couldn't recall anything of the last night: Sleeping Beauty over there was gorgeous, hopefully he had been as nice a lay as his appearance suggested. A double take later and Bucky was gaping inelegantly, the good looks of his partner finally fully seeking in: the man was the embodiment of Bucky's every wet dream. Seriously though, those broad shoulders alone could make him hard. And judging from the small crescent marks still visible across the man's shoulder blades, drunk Bucky had certainly very much enjoyed clenching onto them while the handsome blond rocked into him.

Why could he never remember the fun stuff ? Like, the way that man had felt inside him ? Or the way he'd moaned or maybe screamed... Nah, he didn't look like a screamer, more the kind who would moan into his ear and bite onto his neck to muffle his cry as he came. But he couldn't be sure, thanks to Clint's heavily spiked booze. How had this guy wanted him ? Riding him ? Or perhaps on his back, so that Bucky could meet every one of his moans with his lips, dig his nails into his shoulders and gaze into the man's blue eyes currently staring at him with an amused expression ?

Wait.

Bucky started in surprise when he realised that the blond man was awake and smiling at him, showing his perfect teeth. He definitely hoped that this beautiful mouth had been all over his body, otherwise it would be a shame.

"Hey," the blond said softly.

Bucky all but melted at this simple word: his one-night stand's voice was deep and warm, and the kindness in his eyes lit a growing fire in the deepest part of his body, each nerve ablaze and vibrating.

"Hi..." he replied hesitantly, fighting the blush threatening to bloom across his cheeks as he struggled to find that man's name into his mind, but to no avail.

Clint was a dead man.

"So..." he started when no other name than hot-dude came to mind. "This is awkward as hell but, um... I might or might not have forgotten your name ? And the whole night ?"

He winced when the guy laughed, aware that this was not his smoothest moment, until the blond answered:

"Sorry, I'm not making fun of you, I promise. It's just... I guess I'm glad I'm not the only one struggling to remember: I kinda forgot your name too ?"

He laughed again but was quieter this time, but Bucky soon joined him in a chuckle.

"The name's James... I go by Bucky though."

"Bucky..." the blond repeated slowly, probably not aware of the stirring in his partner's belly upon hearing that deep voice say his name. "I'm Steve."

"Hi, Steve," Bucky greeted him again, this time with a smile that lit up his whole face and made the corners of his mouth curl up.

He didn't miss the way Steve's eyes lingered a bit too long on his lips and he made a show of slowly licking them, going as far at to nibble onto the bottom one and smirking when Steve's pupils darkened. But he adverted his eyes after a few seconds, only to look lower, at Bucky's body that the sheets didn't cover higher than the hips. He was about to make a salacious comment but Steve beat him to it.

"Seems like last night was a lot of fun," the blond said, staring at Bucky's exposed chest and even reaching out to caress his skin with his fingertips, making a shiver run down his spine.

Following his gaze, the other man noticed a hickey right above his clavicle - one of his weak spots, that had him quivering in pleasure when properly abused, and he didn't doubt Steve had been thorough in the exploration of his body.

"I don't know," Bucky eventually chirped and wiggled his brows. "I can't remember... What do you think ?"

"I think..." Steve said slowly, shifting on the bed until he could nose at Bucky's perfect jaw, all the way up to his ear, "I think you might need a reminder..."

Bucky didn't answer - he couldn't, not when Steve's lips were ghosting above his own, waiting for him to make his move and tell him that he wanted this as much as he did. When their mouths finally crashed on each other's hungrily, Bucky idly wondered how it was possible to even forget the way their lips fitted together, but he quickly chased the thought away.

He had better things to do, namely, focus on Steve's soft moans dying against his lips as Bucky's hands roamed all over his body in teasing, featherlike touches. Those he would make sure to remember.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! Don't forget to drop a comment to tell me whether or not you liked this one and feel free to send requests !


	7. Dancing in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments, subscriptions, bookmarks and kudos, it means a lot to me ! I hope you will like this one-shot, which is kind of a college!AU with skinny Steve plus pining and shy Bucky :)
> 
> Title from Bruce Springsteen's song, although I wrote this listening to Paul Anka and Pet Shop Boys...

  


"James, go talk to him," Natasha said, rolling her eyes as she repeated this sentence for what seemed like the fifteenth time this evening.

And James, that brat, only replied, like he had the previous fourteen times:

"No. And it's Bucky."

"Go talk to him _now_ or I swear on everything you ever loved _I _will do it for you."__

Bucky suddenly turned around to face her, blue eyes growing impossibly wide from the fright kindled by this threat and for the first time in minutes - hours, Natasha would rather say - Bucky looked at someone else than the skinny blond boy dancing next to his friends in the middle of the dance floor. Now, Natasha had nothing to say about that: the guy was cute, sure, although she wouldn't ever try to hit on him because she was persuaded she would break him if she did as much as lay a finger on him, but Bucky had every right to stare at him with that enamoured gaze. However, she couldn't stand watching her friend only look and never dare talk to that boy... Which Bucky had been doing for nearly six months already, hopelessly smitten as soon as Steve Rogers had stepped into their lecture hall in NYU.

"It's not that hard, James," Natasha told him. "You go over there, give him a smile and ask if you can buy him a drink. Easy."

"We don't even know if he's gay," Bucky mumbled, which earned him a raised brow.

"Seriously ?" Natasha asked in disbelief, just this close to facepalm. "That's your excuse this time ? James, everybody knows that Steve Rogers is even gayer than you. Grow a pair and go."

"Maybe later."

He always said that. Bucky just couldn't find the courage in himself to approach Steve and talk to him, sure that he would only face rejection, and... Bucky liked him, okay ? A lot. But in his eyes, Steve had always seemed like someone he just couldn't be with: the blond was too good for someone like Bucky, shy and awkward Bucky who had a crush on the skinny but amazing Steve Rogers. Steve who fought for gender equality, volunteered at the animal shelter, donated blood while Bucky fainted at the sight of a needle, and probably helped old men cross the street.

Bucky could now add to the list that Steve had got some moves, although he probably shouldn't torture himself by watching those slender hips move to the sick beat of the music, some electro shit that he couldn't even pretend to like. However, he couldn't deny that Steve looked great under the artificial lights, dark red and blue spotlights swinging around the dance floor and creating strange shadows on Steve's usually pale skin that now looked flushed, his eyes shining in the dark like some ethereal creature.

A sad sigh escaped Bucky's lips as he kept watching Steve having fun, wistfully wishing that he could dance like that and smoothly walk up to the blond, but he was totally unable to roll his hips or move his body like every other person on this dance floor could. Oh, he could dance, sure, but not like this: ask him for a waltz or a tango and Bucky would be on his feet in no time, thanks to Natasha who had dragged him as her unwilling partner to her dance classes last year (well, unwilling at first, because he'd warmed up pretty quickly to the idea of learning ballroom dances.) But Bucky needed the comfort of intimacy to truly lose his inhibitions and move like only Natasha knew he could... And the bodies pressing together on the dance floor without any coordination weren't what he considered intimate.

Bucky didn't even try to hide his relief when Natasha left his side, heading for the dance floor with their mutual friend Clint, and he was glad she would be too busy to think about him and Steve any longer. She shouldn't worry about him anyway, he'd be fine.

And yet, one hour later or so, Bucky was moping nearby the bar, still too chicken to strike up a conversation with sweet, amazing Steve. Yeah, he was hopeless and he knew it, thank you. He was starting to consider going back to his dorm room, finally fed up with the loud electro hurting his ears and the pining, when the music suddenly shifted and softer, slower notes echoed all over the room. Bucky watched as couples, lovers or friends, invaded the dance floor with smiles and giggles while some other left to get a drink after that exhausting electro session; what really caught his attention though, was the way Steve's face suddenly fell as he left to sit down at a table not far from there, all alone as his friends began to slow dance together.

And _that_... That broke Bucky's heart: the young man had looked so happy when he was dancing before and now he just seemed so lonely... He couldn't stand seeing that expression on his handsome face. As a result, Bucky gulped down what was left of the vodka Nat had graciously bought him, then he made his way to Steve, his heart beating faster and faster the closer he came.

"Hi, Steve," he said when he stopped in front of the blond student, trying to flash him a smile that probably ended up looking like a nervous frown.

Steve, startled, looked up in surprise and he tilted his head to the side in confusion when he saw the young man now facing him.

"Uh... Hi," he halted. "I... You're James, right ?"

"Yeah," the other replied, fighting a grin now that he knew that Steve had noticed him before, that he had made enough of an impression to be remembered by name. "Bucky, really. Only my parents call me James. And Natasha, but she's... something else."

Steve smiled softly, glancing behind Bucky at the petite redhead - and of course he knew Natasha. Who didn't ? Steve then looked back at him and his confusion showed once more, as if he couldn't quite comprehend why Bucky would want to talk to him. Before he could open his mouth though, the other student rocked on the balls of his feet and asked:

"So... Not a big fan of slow dancing ?"

Steve's eyes widened, even more flabbergasted by this unexpected question, but he eventually shrugged and avoided Bucky's gaze when he replied softly:

"I could be, I guess, if someone ever chose to ask me for a dance."

"You... you never slow danced with anyone ? Why ? I mean... You're... you," Bucky finished lamely, afraid to say too much as he gestured at Steve's body.

Bucky probably shouldn't have tried to finish that sentence, because Steve bristled and looked up defiantly, blue eyes hardening and coldly piercing through Bucky.

"Nice, thank you," he hissed, his hands suddenly balling into tight fists. "Women, or men for that matter, aren't exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on. I know that, so fuck off."

"I... No, I..." Bucky stammered, horrified that Steve had misunderstood him. "That's not what I meant ! You're just..."

"What ?" Steve asked aggressively, growing angrier by the second.

"I think you're adorable ?" Bucky squeaked out uncertainly. "And damn attractive ? That you have the most damn blue eyes I've ever seen ? Oh, and I like your hands." he added as a second thought.

When he dared meet Steve's gaze again, the blond student was staring at him with what could only be described as shock flickering in his pupils, and he eventually deflated before he whispered:

"You... Really ?"

"Yeah... I really like you, Steve, so I was wondering... If maybe you'd like to dance with me," Bucky said hesitantly, reaching his hand out even though he was kind of expecting to be turned down already.

And Steve _blushed_ , turning a delicate shade of pink as he suddenly realised how rude he had been to that boy who... liked him. The sincerity and genuine hope shining in his eyes as he waited for an answer were enough to convince him of the other's good intentions and slowly, gingerly, he placed his hand on the open palm of Bucky's, feeling the delicious warmth of his skin.

The delighted grin that split Bucky's lips open was even warmer.

  



	8. Make your Yuletide gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! Here comes a special Christmas OS, I've been waiting to publish it since August... I don't know about you but there's no snow so far in Belgium, so I hope this short story will give you some Christmas vibe despite the weather.
> 
> Enjoy this chapter with skinny!Steve (and some Clintasha because they're lovely.) Merry Christmas already !

  


Steve sneezed for the third time in five minutes as the cold wind of this snowy day tickled his nose and Nathaniel, the little devil, giggled in amusement. The kid, five years old and happily walking in the snow next to his godfather, tugged at the sleeve of Steve's thick coat to catch his attention and pointed to a small coffee-shop not too far from where they stood, heavily decorated with holly wreaths and garlands of all sorts.

"Hot chocolate !" Nathaniel exclaimed. "You'll be aaaaall warm."

Steve smiled at that but shook his head, fully aware that the little boy's interest mostly lay in the muffins, cakes and other pastries displayed by the window.

"Oh no, kiddo. If I do this, your mom will kill me," Steve said, lifting a gloved hand to pull his red beanie a little further down onto his blond hair.

He repressed a shudder as he imagined the look (and kicks) Natasha would give him if she heard that he'd bought her son a cream horn or a slice of cheesecake this late in the afternoon, when dinner was only one short hour away from them, and he decided to steer clear of any coffee shop or bakery for the time being.

Nathaniel pouted at his refusal, looking very much like his father whenever Natasha denied him something, which Steve knew Clint would be proud of.

"Come on," Steve said, taking Nathaniel's small hand in his own, freezing despite the thick gloves he was wearing. "We'll have to go back to your parents' soon, is there a last shop you want to go to ?"

Nathaniel looked around, eyes comically narrowing in concentration while he stared at every shop in the street that was bustling with activity as people hurried to buy their last Christmas gifts.

"There !" Nathaniel finally chirped, not waiting for Steve to get moving as he decidedly dragged him to a toy store with a half-timbered facade that was illuminated by soft golden and red Christmas lights.

The wooden signboard above the door read _The Bucky Bear_ , bold letters written in a half-circle around the drawing of a teddy bear sporting a tiny black mask. As Steve pushed the door open and entered the shop with Nathaniel, a wave of warmth and the cheerful tunes of a Christmas song welcomed them inside. Steve slightly tightened his grip on the child's hand when he saw how many people had had the same idea and had gathered in the shop, lost-looking parents in front of endless shelves of toys and overexcited children running around.

Nathaniel's hand eventually slipped out of his godfather's and the boy went to explore, Steve following closely behind so that he wouldn't let the child out of his sight. The place swarmed with kids and Steve felt himself go back to his childhood, filled with excitement and delight when he decorated the Christmas tree with his mother and babbled, wondering aloud if Santa Claus thought he'd been a good boy, what kind of gifts he would receive, or whether Santa would like a biscuit waiting for him under the tree - he had a long night ahead of him, right ? The old man deserved a treat.

"Can I help you, Sir ?"

Steve jumped and let out an embarrassing squeak when he heard a disembodied voice, until he turned around and found himself facing a tall, young male clerk whose nametag helpfully bore the name _Bucky_.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the man apologised politely with a sheepish smile as he took a step back. "You seemed a little... Lost ? Do you need help ?"

Steve opened his mouth to answer but he didn't make a sound, his throat suddenly dry and his words forgotten as he took in the young man's appearance. He had seen many attractive guys and girls in his twenty-seven years of existence but Steve now knew that he had found the most handsome of all. He couldn't even figure out where to look at first: the plump lips ? The stubbly chin and cheeks ? Or the sleek black hair parting like a curtain around his face, sharp contrast to his pale blue eyes ?

A little belatedly, Steve realised that he'd been asked a question, which he answered in a strangled voice:

"N... No, I'm fine. Just... thinking. I, uh... I like this shop."

"You do ?" the young man, _Bucky_ , perked up at that, lips curling up in a radiant smile. "Thank you ! We haven't been here for long, it's our first Christmas, but business is slowly taking off."

"The kids seem to love it," Steve said, briefly glancing to the side and spotting Nathaniel's recognisable mop of venetian blond hair, thankfully not yet lost in the crowd.

"Yeah," the clerk nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he flashed Steve a wide grin. "I love seeing them so happy and all smiley when they find something they like. Did you ?"

"Did I... what ?" Steve asked, slightly bemused and totally unable to focus on the meaning of the words - or anything beyond the young man's voice, really.

"Did you find something you like ?" Bucky repeated, this time wiggling his brows as his smile slowly turned... flirtatious. Oh God.

Steve felt his cheeks heat up at that and he knew he was blushing, probably turning as red as his beanie the longer he kept gaping at Bucky, trying to find a comeback that wouldn't embarrass him for the rest of his existence, until he heard the shouts of a childish voice, quickly growing louder:

"Steve, Steve, Steve !"

The blond male finally found the strength to advert his eyes from Bucky's charming and smug face that made his stomach warm up with a mix of embarrassment and sudden delight at the blatant flirting that was going on, and he turned his head just in time to see Nathaniel come running to him.

"Natha... Ouch !"

Steve's full weight unexpectedly shifted as the child didn't slow down, collided with his legs and threw him off balance, so hard that he tumbled and fell forward. He should have toppled to the ground, _should_ being the keyword, because he collapsed against a hard chest before muscular arms sneaked around his slim waist to hold him up and _oh, hello there_.

His whole face flushed when he realised that he could discern every single one of Bucky's lashes if he looked up. And feel his breath gently ruffle his hair and tickle his skin as the young clerk leaned in a little, getting close enough to... Bad idea, Steve, bad idea ! Focus ! But how could he, when Bucky was whispering in his ear:

"I guess you _did_ find something you like after all."

A small sound died in Steve's throat, halfway between a laugh and a moan, but he remembered that Nathaniel could hear them if he strained a little, so he regretfully stepped back with a shy smile that was met with Bucky's own teasing grin. Steve would have drowned in his eyes if Nathaniel hadn't reminded him of his presence:

"Steve, look !" he exclaimed, throwing a huge teddy bear in his arms.

The blond man first noticed the black mask around the plush's eyes, then Bucky who had crouched down next to the little boy and was now sharing his enthusiasm.

"Good choice ! Do you think your father will like it ?" he asked with a meaningful glance up at Steve.

"Godfather," Nathaniel corrected, unaware that he'd just made Bucky's day by confirming that Steve and he weren't related. "Steve, can I have it ? Pleeeeease ?"

"Uh..." he only managed to answer, as he was still trying to process the events. "I..."

"The Bucky bear is our specialty," the clerk informed him while he straightened up, towering above Steve by a few inches at least. "It's a great..."

"Bucky bear ?" the blond echoed, interrupting the other man. "You... you named your shop and a plushie after yourself ?"

A huge grin split his lips when he - finally ! - saw the clerk falter and blush, bashful as he looked down and mumbled an explanation:

"I didn't... My friends, they... It was a joke at first. But, I don't know, it kinda stuck ?"

"It's cute," Nathaniel decided, toying with the plush that Steve was still holding onto.

"Thanks !" Bucky smiled, confidence slowly returning in his words as he beamed, dazzling and bright as the sun. "And you know what, this little guy gives the best hugs ever."

"Steve ?" Nathaniel called, turning to his godfather with pleading eyes. "Can I have him ? Please ?"

Definitely too much Clint in those eyes, Steve thought as he nodded and added a quiet sure, before the boy rewarded him with a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you !" the kid chirruped, taking back the teddy bear from the blond man and strolling a little farther away, content to watch the other toys from afar now that he had the Bucky bear pressed against his chest.

"Hey, you know who else gives nice hugs ?"

Steve shifted his attention back to human-Bucky and tried to resist the smile he could feel spreading his lips already, with little success.

"If you want to find out..." the clerk added cheekily, "How about coffee, tomorrow at three ? Come back to the shop and we take it from there ?"

The blond didn't need much time to think about it and agree: it didn't happen everyday that an attractive and funny guy, who seemed to like kids to top it all, asked him out. Steve tried to ignore the fast pace of his heartbeats as he tiptoed to place a gentle kiss on Bucky's cheek, before he purred in his ear:

"I'm looking forward to it. See you tomorrow, Bucky."

He stepped back then, before walking away and catching Nathaniel's hand in his own to lead him toward the checkout so that he could pay for the bear and go home. When he turned around to flash Bucky a last smile, the young man was still frozen in his spot, following Steve with sparkly eyes and a dreamy expression on his face.

  


  



	9. Just married

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! Thank you for the kudos, comments, subscriptions and bookmarks, I'm really happy to know you like these short stories. I hope you will enjoy this one as well !

  


_Flash_. The entrance of the church, decorated with white roses and tiny bushes. _Flash_. Kids in clothes that they clearly find uncomfortable as they try to run inside the church and keep pulling their pants up. _Flash_. Lit candles near the altar, small flames dancing with the soft breeze of the cold building.

Steve looks down at his camera and goes through the pictures he has already taken, glancing up from time to time and praying that Sam will be there soon. Being the photographer at a wedding is nice and pays well but it would be even better if Sam, best man of the bride-to-be and also the one who got him this job, could arrive and join him soon: Steve doesn't know anyone here save for Sam so really, he should hurry. The ceremony hasn't yet begun and there are only a few people inside the church for now, which means that he doesn't exactly have many opportunities for pictures and no one to talk to. He feels horribly out of place.

Heck, he doesn't even know who the bride and her groom are, no matter how close to Sam: he never met them, only briefly heard the bride on the phone when she called his friend. Well, it's not like Steve will have a hard time finding her once she arrives, fortunately: a girl in a white gown next to the altar is easy to spot.

"Hey, excuse me... Steve Rogers ?"

At the gentle tap on his shoulder and the words almost whispered in his ear, Steve turns around with round eyes that grow even wider, if possible, when he catches sight of the young man in front of him. He self-consciously runs a shaky hand through his unruly blond hair while he eyes the perfection of the other man's slicked back chocolate strands, of his eyes that shift from blue to grey with the light, and then his gorgeous mouth offers a smile that has Steve itching for a picture. Instead of grabbing the young man's wrist to drag him to a luminous spot and take endless photographs, he tries to return the smile at the same time as he chokes:

"Y... Uh, yeah, that's me."

"You're the photographer, right ?" the man asks, before eyeing the camera in Steve's hand and still managing to look elegant and damn attractive as he adds with a self-deprecating snort, "Of course you are, sorry. I'm James."

He extends his right hand that Steve immediately shakes, all but melting as the voice warms his stomach and heats up his cheeks, which he hopes haven't reddened too much, and James' palm feels warm and soft against his own skin and - oh shit, he prays that his hands aren't clammy or damp or anything, that would be mortifying. They don't seem to be though, for James doesn't discreetly wipe his hand over his pants and his smile still looks as relaxed as before, so that has to count for something.

"So," James starts, rocking a little on the balls of his feet, "I was wondering if maybe I could ask for a special picture..."

Steve nods but doesn't trust himself to answer right now, afraid that his next words could come out as incredibly sexual and inappropriate. Like _Yes, I can take you any way you want_. Or _I do nudes, too_. The blond mentally shakes himself and focuses on James' words (and rich voice.)

"Actually, I'd love to get a picture of Natasha's face when she says _I do_. The boys and I bet she'd cry and she said she wouldn't, so now we really need a proof... Can you do that for us ?"

Natasha, Steve thought. The bride. The name sounds familiar, Sam probably told him about her at some point...

"Sure," the blond replies with a smile that he hopes bright and a little seductive - yeah, so what ? He's facing a super attractive man, come on, who wouldn't try to flirt a little ? "I'll be right next the altar to get the best shots, no problem."

"Great !" James exclaims, wincing when his voice resounds far too loudly in the church. "Thanks, Steve, really. It will be awesome ! Oh, sorry, Dum Dum is there, I have to... I'll see you later, Steve, enjoy yourself ! Hey, Dum Dum !"

The blond narrows his eyes and discreetly stares at James' ass when the man turns around and goes to greet a friend of his, a sturdy dude with a thick moustache that Steve could only ever dream of growing, what with his barely-there blond hair.

People start arriving soon enough and Steve nearly prances to his spot near the altar, giddy with excitement as he thinks about James and how he could maybe ask for a dance during the party after the ceremony, to which he has been invited too - and the deal is clear: he's there for the photo album mainly but Sam told him he was allowed to have fun as well.

Speaking of Sam, he doesn't take much more time to enter the church and head straight for Steve, who welcomes him with open arms and a radiant smile that has Sam arching up a brow.

"Someone sure seems happy today," he chirps, wrapping Steve in a brief but tight hug. "You saw a puppy on your way ?"

The blond snorts, noticing in dismay that it doesn't sound nearly as delicate as the sound James made earlier, and beams at his friend:

"Sam, I think I'm in love ! That's it, I met the one. He's... Sam, he's so gorgeous ! And his voice, oh God I thought I was going to faint or something !"

"Come on, Stevie !" the other chuckles. "Falling in love at a wedding ? Isn't that a little cliché ? Who's he ?"

"He's..." Steve starts, growing silent as he peeks behind Sam's shoulder and searches the crowd as subtly as possible until he finds James, still speaking to the moustache-man, and the blond grabs Sam's arm to turn him to the right direction. "There ! Sam, look, look ! Right there, with the... Oh my, is that a bun ? You know how I always liked long hair, can he get any more perfect ?"

"James ?" Sam asks in disbelief as he turns back to his friend. "Steve..."

"You know him ?" Steve wonders aloud before a huge grin splatters itself on his face. "Awesome ! Could you introduce us later ? I mean, properly, because we already talked a little and he wants me to..."

Steve would have gladly repeated their whole conversation to Sam, inappropriate bits included, if music hadn't suddenly echoed inside the church, announcing the beginning of the wedding ceremony. Sam quickly leaves his side to sit on his own chair and Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners as he spots James, so close to the altar - and to him - probably as the best man. He knows that the job mostly revolves around the married couple but the guests also play an important role at a wedding, so who will care if he gets a little carried away and takes more pictures of the best man than strictly necessary ? No one, exactly. Plus, he can always keep them - and that doesn't qualify as creepy, not at all.

The bride makes her grand entrance a few minutes later and all Steve can do is raise his camera in front of him to immortalise that beauty. Natasha is... Steve doesn't - can't - find the words. With every step she takes down the nave, bright red hair falling in artistic curls brushes her shoulders, left visible by her sleeveless white dress. Her eyes shine with joy and she flashes a luminous smile to the blond man walking next to her, far too young to be her father and wearing hearing aids that Steve only notices because he has one himself.

As she comes closer and closer to the altar, the blond photographer is hit with a wave of panic on her behalf: where is the groom ? He's supposed to be there already and it's just him and James by the altar and... Oh.

Steve slowly turns to James, the joy slipping off his face as he notices that yes, James only has eyes for Natasha, his visage lit up with so much love that Steve can only ache and crave for it from afar. Maybe Sam was right: maybe falling in love at a wedding was too cliché to happen for real.

Steve does his job all the same though, taking picture after picture, longingly staring at James through the lens of his camera. A sad smile curls his lips as he catches the moment James was waiting for, the picture that will get him to win his bet: Natasha does cry as she becomes his wife...

But so does Steve's heart.

  



End file.
